A Warning
Ever since she became Gerald's mistress, almost every weekend they'd go out—secretly.
"Here's your last course. Please enjoy," The waiter had put their dessert on the table.
The waiter slightly bowed and walked away.
"So, what's the plan for the weekend?" Delilah asked in a practiced line, before taking a portion of the cake and putting it into her mouth.
She'd always hoped that Gerald would be busy, her wife—making him stay home, heck go somewhere else, or maybe some business partner would reach out to him—and make him busy.
"How about we go to the beach? It's perfect for the season." Gerald replied, winking.
"It is perfect." She puts on an act, she chuckled at the fact that he's being flirty.
As they were digging in the last course, his phone rang.
Gerald stood up and walked away from the table and answered it. His back was in front of her, making it impossible for Delilah to read his lips. He was glancing from his back and smiled to check on her from time to time until the call ended for a few minutes.
He walks back to the table, "Sorry Delilah, I'm afraid the plan would be postponed." He sighed.
Delilah felt relieved, her prayers had been answered this time.
Gerald started, "My wife and I had to go on a social event, hosted by my friend in Singapore..." he said pausing, "She knew that if she had told me earlier, I will just go to meet my friend by myself and not go to the party."
He sighed, feeling beaten. "But no, she bragged and boasted, that we'll go the event together... And I can't let my friend down." He explained.
"Well, I mean you are giving less and less time on your wife. Plus, don't you think she might've caught on us?" Delilah acted anxiously, putting on a worried face.
"Don't worry, she doesn't know." Gerald assured, lifting up her chin.
Delilah was absolutely disgusted by this man. But she still continues to put on her good mistress act.
"Yeah, you're right. Because when she does, I'll probably be slapped, or my hair be pulled like your previous ones." Delilah giggled, easing the atmosphere.
Gerald chuckled, adding, "Maybe... But you're different, Delilah. You're smarter, beautiful, charming, gorgeous—"
There he goes again with the "I'm different," line. She cringed internally.
She cuts his sentence, "Gosh you're such a sweet talker aren't you?" Delilah shook her head, letting out a practiced sweet shy smile.
Gerald just winked.
"But for now—" he smiled, sitting back down. "Let's finish our last course."
Delilah smiled back. Gosh I hope he finds someone else to obsess with.
◆ ◆ ◆
At Delilah's house, Delilah had just brushed and showered and was now ready to go for a sleep. She checks her phone if the alarm was set right, so she can wake up early to handle her flower shop. Usually she has Giselle take over the flower shop. But Giselle had just informed her—just as Delilah was in the uber going back to her house, that she can't go to the shop tomorrow because of family emergencies.
Because of that, Delilah decided that she will take over the shop for the weekend. Delilah, of course, had encountered situations like this before, and It's not really a big deal to her. After all, being a florist was a joy and a personal hobby for her.
Delilah's house is a two story building. The first floor is exactly designed for a flower shop. And the second floor is for residential. There was a smart door and a dividing wall that separated the flower shop from the staircase to go to the second floor.
◆ ◆ ◆
The alarm rang at six in the morning, and Delilah groggily reached her phone to stop the ringing. She remove her blanket and got out of bed to fold it, and rearrange the pillows messed by her slumber. She went to the bathroom, reached the switch to turn on the lights. She reach for the sink and turned on the water to gargle. After turning off the water, she goes to do the natures call and reached the toilet paper.
After that, she stood up and takes off her clothes and placed it to the basket, then goes to the shower area and closed the glass shower door. She turned the handle to get the water running, not bothering to turn on the heater so she can fully wake up.
"Wooh!— " Delilah reacted unintentionally, whispering. "That's cold..."
After washing herself properly, she turned back the handle of the shower to stop the water from running. She reached to slide the glass door, and get out of the shower area. She reached her bath towel to dry herself, and reached for her bathrobe to slipped into it. She turned on the switch for the exhaust, and turned off the lights before exiting out the bathroom.
She goes to the kitchen to prepare herself some sunny side up eggs paired with toast. After preparing her meal, she reach into the cabinet to get some mug, to prepare her coffee. She carried her breakfast to her coffee table, which is just beside the balcony glass door. She opened the curtains and tied it. She sat on the chair and reached for her mug and sipped.
She took in the breathtaking scenery—the sun being rose fully to the horizon, making beautiful golden hue and the blue sky clashing together. After few moments of appreciating, she then proceeds to eat her breakfast.
After finishing her breakfast, she got up on her seat, and placed the dishes on the sink. Before washing it, she first reached a glass and filled it. After drinking the water, she placed the glass in the sink, then proceeds to wash them.
She goes to her wardrobe, grabbed some undergarments, and picked the puffy white top to be paired to a light denim jeans to go with her outfit today. She brought it to the bathroom, and placed it to a hanging shelf. But before putting it on, she brushed her teeth, and cleanses her face to put on some moisturizer, to be followed by a sunscreen. She then removed her bathrobe and puts her clothes on. She decides to put her hair in a bun, applied some light blush, some lipgloss, and finished her look by putting on some mascara after curling her lashes. Before exiting the bathroom, she turned off the exhaust that she turned on earlier.
Delilah then reached her phone before going to the door, that leads to the stairs. After walking down the stairs, she grabbed and put on her sandals from the shoe cabinet. And reach for her brown canvas apron from the coat rack before opening the smart door that leads to her shop. She grabbed the remote control of the air conditioner and goes to put her apron. She continue to walk through the entrance door and unlock it, then flipping the sign from "Closed" to "Open."
Delilah took a look at the clock hanging on the wall, and It's 7:01 A.M. She then placed her hands on her hips and took a deep sigh, the pleasant scent of flowers hanging in the air.
"Welp, time to check on the flowers."
Delilah stared, then ran her hand gently through the flowers to examine each one meticulously. She then removed the wilting flowers from each type of flower, classified by their own large glass jar filled with water to keep them fresh.
After removing the bad flowers. She went to the wrapping station to check if there were enough wrapper. She pouted as she see's that the rolls were nearly empty.
So she goes at the back corner of the shop, where the stockroom was located. She turned the doorknob and pushed the door, then stepped inside. She approached the shelf where the wrapper rolls were located, and grabbed some fresh stack.
Just as she stepped outside the stock room—her hand still adjusting the rolls at her chest—the entrance door opened, and the bell above the door let out a soft chime to signal that a customer has entered.
She instinctively glanced—and then she saw her, early in the morning.
Isid Escalera...?
Gerald's wife.
The morning light shining through the glass bathed the older woman's black crisp blouse, gray tailored slacks, and designer bag hanging from her arm.
Even in simplicity, the way she carried herself was regal.
Delilah's thoughts are in a haze, fear and guilt consuming her.
Why is she here? Does she know? Is she going to make a scene?
Delilah breath hitched for a second—pulse quickening. She imagined, and hoped that this day wouldn't come.
But despite her spiraling thoughts, she acted calm and kept her posture composed.
She had seen Isid before of course, but it was brief. Sometimes—Delilah stepping out of Gerald office just as Isabel stepped in. Other times, catching her seated in the back of his car, the glass separating them like a screen in a confessional booth. There had never been introductions. No words were ever exchanged. Only glances from Isid that always carried an air of untouchable control—poised, polished, sharp.
And that brief moments alone, left a lasting impression that Isid is no ordinary woman.
Delilah quickly set aside the wrapper rolls she had been clutching to her chest. She goes to approach the counter and greeted,
"Good morning Mrs. Escalera, Is Mr. Escalera with you?" she said, offering a courteous nod. "How may I help you today?" Delilah pulse was beating faster, heat radiating to her neck.
Isid took her time to look the inside of the shop, her eyes slowly analyzing over the fresh blooms like analyzing a painting, whether to display it or burn it. She stopped in front of a row of dahlias, trailing one finger near the edge of a petal without touching it.
"No, just me. He's still asleep. I just would like a custom bouquet to be made," she said in a steady, friendly-like voice. "One with a message." Still analyzing the flowers.
Delilah moved behind the counter, nodding. "Certainly. Are you thinking of something for congratulations? Sympathy? Or...?"
Isid turned to face her fully, her expression unreadable. Then, softly, she said,
"A warning."
Delilah froze for a second, eyes slightly widening. Isid's glare somewhat shifted to something dark. The flowers wasn't just for someone else. This was something Delilah already knew...
It was for her.
Even though Delilah had made bouquets for breakups, apologies, even quiet goodbyes. But this—this was new. Not in literal concept, but in intent.
And the look in Isid's eyes told her that she knew everything.
Still, she kept her expression composed.
"I can do that," Delilah answered, voice even.
Isid stepped closer, heels clacking, then she stopped— just inches distance between the counter.
The silence felt heavy to Delilah.
"Nothing dramatic," she added. "But something that lingers. A bouquet that says..."—she smiled slightly, and it didn't reach her eyes—"I've seen everything. And I'll decide how to deal you."
She said, while placing her card on the counter.
Delilah's throat tightened as she was swiping the card. She gave a short nod and gave it back after swiping. She then reached into the bottom shelf of the counter, and pulled out a small ceramic basin and brought it to the faucet filling it halfway with water. Her hands were steady, but her thoughts were a whirl of petals.
A bouquet that says, I've seen everything. And I'll decide how to deal you.
The sentence echoed in her head.
She didn't ask who the bouquet was for. She didn't have to.
Isid had known her doing, and Delilah can't do anything else but pretend that Isid hadn't found out yet, for the sake of her mental being.
Her eyes and fingers sifted through the options—her choices deliberate, thoughtful. She based the choices of the first-few flowers of her doing.
She picked snapdragons first. Traditionally a symbol of grace under pressure, but also of deception. Then a few black calla lilies, elegant and striking, their beauty almost somber. Beside them, she added dark red roses for passion, yes, but also danger. And left a few thorns, then lastly—to take Isid's message into account, some yellow carnations.
She puts the flowers in the basin and brought it over to the wrapping station.
She removed the flowers from the basin and wrapped the base with twine. Then she slipped the one final flower. Yellow carnations. Subtle, but this flower meaning was clear—disdain.
Isid watched every motion. She didn't interrupt, didn't comment. Her silence was heavier than any words. Delilah felt it on her neck like heat. Isid, who's not familiar with the flower language, was still a bit amused of Delilah's choices.
When she was done, Delilah brought the flower at the wrapping station, and wrapped the bouquet in ash-gray parchment. To enhance the bouquet's meaning. More understated, more sharp. She tied it off with a thin black ribbon and placed it gently on the counter between them.
Isid looked at it, then at Delilah.
"It's beautiful," she murmured. "Almost cruel in how much it says without saying a thing."
Delilah tried to give a polite smile. "Flowers speak when we can't."
The older woman eyes lingered on her.
"Do they?" Isid said, voice smooth. Then, as she picked up the bouquet, and leaned as close to Delilah's face despite the counter separating them.
She added quietly—"Let's hope they know when to stay silent, too."
Delilah's breath caught, but she said nothing.
Isid turned, bouquet in hand, and walked slowly out the door.
The bell chimed again, light and sweet. It was the only soft thing that morning.
When the door shut, Delilah was still staring at it.
The room smelled of flowers, and Delilah heavily sense the danger she's in.
◆ ◆ ◆
As Isid left Delilah's flower shop, with the bouquet in hand, she spotted a trash bin and tossed the bouquet in.
She went back to her car and entered the rear seats and signal the driver to go.
After all, she have a flight to catch later in the afternoon.
